Happy Monday everyone. Garfield having taught me what unemployment never could, most people dread Mondays, but with a new episode of the The Walking Dead, and a new Walking Dead Spreecast hosted by Sarah Crow, the only thing you really have to fear is endless hordes of the undead! Well, that and racist rednecks with bayonet hands.

So come join us on Sarah Crow's Spreecast channel and watch the archived show now, as we try and gage just how badass Michonne is, I blush hard about underwear decisions during the zombie apocalypse, and cheer on fan-favorite Glenn's [who apparently has quite the female fan-following] biggest moment so far in the series.

For those you who have been tuning in week-to-week, I can't thank you enough. Views keep this show going, and without the viewers, there'd be no Walking Dead Recap Spreecast at all. But [fingers crossed!] we've made it the whole half-season of The Walking Dead, and with the mid-season finale looming, Sarah and I would love to have you all join us LIVE at 1 PM EST next Monday to send-off the half-season in style.

Recently the social networking site "The Facebook" instituted a new series of rules and guidelines for how they may handle their users' content. The Management would like to help his fellow Facebook users by providing an easy to use, solution for protecting themselves. Or you can just share this post on Facebook. That would probably work too. -- The Management.

"In response to the new Facebook guidelines I hereby declare that my saliva is attached to all of my personal details, illustrations, comics, paintings, professional photos, videos, most of my personal photos, some of the photos other people have tagged me in, as well as several memes I had no hand in creating but believe to be mine anyway because they say something deep and special about me, etc.

For commercial use of the above you just have to be okay with the fact that I licked it all before I put it up.

That's right. I licked them. All of them. And I'm not telling you where.

(Anyone reading this can copy this text and paste it on their Facebook Wall. This will place them under protection of the rule that says, generally, people don't want to touch, fondle, eat, or use things that has your spit on it. Barring significant others. Sometimes. Oh, and this means you have to go through and lick everything too. That's going to take some time. Especially if you get dry mouth easily. Or you had to seal a lot of envelopes today.

By the present communiqué, I notify Facebook that it is more than welcome to disclose, copy, distribute, disseminate, or take any other action against me on the basis of this profile and/or its contents. But it'll probably be touching something my tongue has touched. Can they live with that? I don't knoooow. The aforementioned possibility of touching something my tongue has also apply to employees, students, agents and/or any staff under Facebook's direction or control. The content of this profile is on the Internet, and fairly easy to access and steal anyway. But throughout grade school, middle school, and at least the first year of high school [and the second year of college - weird times], this was the best way to punish people who tried to take my stuff.)"

This week's episode of AMC's The Walking Dead is entitled "Hounded," and in the grand scheme of the show will probably be remembered for bringing one of the oddest moments from the comics quite successfully to the screen. As an adaptation buff, I couldn't have been more pleased with how this translated, but I'm afraid I can't get too much into it here without hitting you all with some serious spoilers. But Sarah and I delve deep on the Spreecast, and if you missed it live, it is archived now on Sarah's Channel.

We cover all the "Lori's Dead" fallout in the episode "Say the Word," talk a lot about Redneck parenting skills, and how madness plays such a big role in this show. I think it's really fascinating how we get to see so many different characters reach their particular breaking point, and not only what comes during that [in this case, some pretty intense hack and slash style axe-killin'], but also what it's like to come back from that, or if the characters ever really can, or do. You can watch the archived episode of us recapping the show here, but be kind - we are both quite noticeably wiped out from Sarah's wedding this past weekend. And by the by, congratulations to the newlyweds, and send them their regards on Twitter @sarahgcrow and her hubby @ryaniscool. Congratulations, guys.

And finishing up this past week in horror television is "The American Horror Story Late Show" recapping the episode "I am Anne Frank Pt. II." If you've been following the show [AHS: Asylum, not our Spreecast - though why wouldn't you be keeping up with both?], this was a pretty huge episode, finally unmasking the man known as Bloody Face, in quite spectacular fashion.

And keeping with the theme of the show, Sarah and I have quite the good time, talking about everything from speech impediment that makes "horror" sound like "whores," the nuances of Sex, Murder, and SexMurder, and necrophilia. We also manage to talk a bit about the show! Not to toot our own horn, but all the Spreecasts Sarah's had me on have been great fun, but I'm not sure why, but we just could not stop laughing during this one.

You can watch the archived Spreecast here. I'm also contemplating suggesting a drinking game, where when watching these, you drink every time Sarah and I start talking about the X-Files or Law and Order: SVU, and try not to die of alcohol poisoning.

He sits waiting patiently in the welcoming hall, anxious about his earliness, a change from just an hour ago, where he decided leaving an hour sooner might ease his panic about being too late. It felt embarrassing, like someone might ask what he’s doing there, or see him as someone in the way, so he sinks into his chair and moves his head only carefully, for fear that a creak of the neck to look around might echo as loudly as a misstep on the wooden floors, and set anyone there upon him in great annoyance.

The only thing worse than being noticed at this point, was nobody noticing him. But such was the case. It seems, as the staff busied themselves around him, oblivious to their overly punctual guest. He’s left with little to do but take in the place, and notices with some pleasure that the hall suits its title, and most definitely feels welcoming. The doors were old wood, squeaking on their hinges in a manner that seemed more heartwarming that annoying. The mirrors were all polished to perfection, their frames shining brightly too, yet around the edges there was just the slightest black, an adhesive gone off years before, or perhaps some strange imperfection in the glass itself. Above him hang small yet clearly antique chandeliers, but all light in the room came from the brass fixtures, not one affixed crookedly, and each carved to look like a stag’s antlers.

Everything here seemed to precariously straddle the line between old and class, as if a layer of dust or a broken hinge might set off a chain reaction, ruining the place. He appreciated the balance, but found it also unsettled him too, as if his presence before the event’s allotted time could also act as a tipping point. He felt the urge to undo his collar, to loosen his tie – this early, a very bad sign.

A man suddenly appears, well-dressed with graying hair, holding a tray with a crystal glass full of a clear, carbonated liquid set on it. Next to the glass is a simple square of napkin and a small plate with a single wedge of lime, arranged in such a way to look professional, yet casual – how he wished he looked.

He takes the drink as it is offered to him, and brining it gently to his lips has a sip. He is immediately surprised, and looks up at the man as he asks “How did you know?” his palate suddenly abuzz with crisp tonic water mixed with his favorite gin.

The man smiles without too radically shifting his features, and answers in a muted, indistinguishable accent. “Sir, it is my job to know.” He takes another sip, and notices the expectation hanging in the air, looking back up once again, lets approval spread across his face. The waiter nods lightly, pleased, and moves out of the room, swiftly, but not in a manner that could ever be considered brisk.

A moment passes. Things return to how they were when he first sat down, just the room and the bustle. He feels invisible again, but far more comfortable. If not for that, and the drink still in his hand, it could have all been in his imagination. Not for the first time.

He sips his drink quietly, not so much savoring it, but more worried that his spectral servant and savior might not do an encore if he was heard slurping, or crunching ice between his teeth. Besides, he didn’t need the latter – he was getting that feeling again, that chill, the tingling that moved from his up his spine and outward, engulfing his back and spreading all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes.

He wondered sometimes about the chill. It always came on when he was feeling nervous, or rather should be. Before, there was self-consciousness, but with his drink, sitting here now, nothing felt more natural to him. He was no longer waiting on the party – the party, for him at least, and begun now that he had arrived.

Anxiety. So much of it that he felt seemed to have so much to do with place, setting, being when and where he was not wanted, expected, or supposed to be. The curse of courtesy. Yet when that feeling, that chill, spread through him, none of that mattered. He felt calmer, more home. Even… comfortable? Not quite, but better. But why? Something occurred. Was he changing himself? Or did that shiver, did the chill spread quite beyond his personage, and change the world around him too?

Was this power? Was this some subtle ability? An innate, preternatural protection for himself, a balance for his cowardice? He found himself at a loss to remember the first time it manifested. Had there been some kind of accident? Did he have a secret origin? Why could he no more remember when he developed this power he used to cope than he could recall what first set off his IBS and panic attacks?

A test seemed in order. There was an obligation, to see not just if it did exist, if he could do such things for himself, but if he was only changing how he felt, or if instead he was shifting, not just emotions, but the greater world, forcing it to stop affecting him. And if so, how far did it, how far could it, extend?

He set down his drink, and cast his eyes downward to the table in front of him. Each moment of panic had felt tactile, like something had brushed past him, and kinetically, passed to him the urge to react as poorly as possible. Perhaps contact was key, so placing both hands palms down, he felt the ornate table cloth, rough on his hands, cheaper than it looks. You can’t trust antiques with drunks, you can’t save certain kinds of history from spills. He noticed his urge to digress, and focused himself, willing the table top, the entire table, and the chairs around, pushing firmly for them to be anything other than someplace to sit. The need for this place to be anywhere but here.

He suddenly felt the tingle, and the hairs on his body rose from the chill, and he shook for a moment, not from the pressure he applied, but rather his body’s sudden pressure drop, and were he to lift his hands and find ice on his finger tips, he would not be surprised. In spite of this, the table remained just that – a table. It didn’t alter, or shift, or change. Disappointment loomed, and under the cold, from out of his heart, and spreading just under his back, he could feel the anxiety rise up again.

As his head warmed, it screamed at him, beads of sweat actually appearing, unlike the phantasmal ice he’d imagined. He wanted to leap from the table, but in picturing it, he saw himself knocking the table, spilling his drink, making it to the door post all this horrible chaos, only to come face to face with those he’d come to see, with friends and their strangers who he had been waiting for. He tried to lift his hands and immediately saw they were trembling. He tried to push himself up, but the clamminess of his hands slipped on the tablecloth and in pushing off, he only slid further down into his seat. The quaking of his hands, the shaking of the table, these were not hallmarks of someone waiting patiently. Embarrassment swelled.

This was all interrupted with a sound like a cough. He jolted upright in his chair, as if waking from a trance. The table under his hands looked undisturbed. His head felt dry, and his hands no longer clammy. He wasn’t sweating quite like he had imagined. It all seemed crazy now, a series of logical leaps one could only make in dream he’d while dozing.

The waiter cleared his throat again, but appeared before him as if he’d only performed said alerting action for the first time. Apologetically, his gracious server asked if he would move. The staff had need of the room.

[The following discussion took place on Facebook a little before 1 o'clock today with a friend of mine who here I'm going to be giving the nom de plume of "Lola Montenegro." If you've heard us use this name before, or if you're a Facebook friend who knows who I'm referring to, I ask you please keep it under your hat. I'm posting this because a) it was a rare civil discourse on Facebook about something and b) Lola is one of the few women I've known to argue for the other side of this issue. "Likes" are noted, but by who will be kept anonymous. - The Management.]

Lola: Glasses on a chick definitely don't seal the deal for me. The Saga: "Fanboy Rampage: Jennifer de Guzman Vs Dirk Manning" [Any readers should probably check out this article on Bleeding Cool before continuing - The Management.]Randall: Dude was way out of line though. I hate seeing this goalkeeping stuff in geek culture. Lola: On the other hand, chick needs to calm the fuck down. She went way off the handle on that. [comment was "Liked" once by X]Randall: I
don't think so. This stuff is happening everywhere. The whole culture
is ripe with sexism, and telling women what's appropriate and what's
not. I mean, when you're a part of a culture that you constantly have to
justify your presence in, doesn't it make sense to have a short fuse
about it?

Maybe if more people who wanted to decide who is geek enough and who isn't got read the riot act about this, it'd stop.

Lola: A
model who's never read a comic in her life putting on glasses to be
"geek sexy" is hardly quantifiable. I think that was his target, in
which case I'm in agreement. [comment was "Liked" once by X]

Randall: I just don't think he has any right to be targeting anyone. Especially when we should be trying to be a welcoming culture.

Did you see Tony Harris's rant?

Randall [cont]: As a fan, I'm so disappointed.

Lola: The
model will take those glasses off when her "geek sexy pic" is done and
not give another two shits about the culture. There's nothing to
welcome. And yeah, I did see that. I'm still a Harris fan. Rich had a
good followup for that, putting it into somewhat of a more cohesive
perspective.[comment was "Liked" once by X]

Randall: Yeah,
but the same thing is true about say, the guy who played Hawkeye in the
Avengers movie, or performers in the XXX nerd parodies, many who have
documented not giving a shit about this stuff. When they were done with
those roles, and took those costumes off, we still welcome them into the culture. It's a double standard.

Hell,
we don't even have to be welcoming them. But calling people phonies and
poseurs and telling them to get the fuck out is douche-y. It's douche-y
in any culture.

Lola: I
think it's only douchey if applied to someone who has an interest in
the culture or is just now getting into it. If applied to someone who
has absolutely no interest and puts on glasses just for "geek" fashion,
then fuck them, chick or dude.

Randall: But
how do we even know if they're getting into a culture, is the thing?
You have no interest in something until you suddenly do.

Look
everyone worries about their culture or style being appropriated by
folks who don't give a shit, but getting extra-defensive about it never
stops. Just ask the punks and goths and beats who saw their styles end
up on runways, and on hipsters.

Lola: I agree that getting outrageously defensive is ridiculous.

Randall: I
think there are reasons to get angry about things in these situations,
especially when you're part of group getting discriminated against. I
think turning into Holden Caulfield and trying to play bouncer against
"phonies" is silly, and makes me wonder what's really important to the
people doing it.

I want to thank Lola for letting me put this up here - I love her to death, even though we disagree, and that we could have such a civil conversation on the internet [!] even as close friends is truly amazing. Also, to Elizabeth DeLoria, Jill Pantozzi, and The Mary Sue for bringing these things to my attention, and Rich Johnston, for covering it all on BC. If anyone actually reads this post, feel free to comment, keep it going. Just stay civil.

Finally, to editorialize a bit. I don't just want to call attention to this because I'm a feminist, or because of my own attachment to geek culture - some could even call that connection tenuous after some things I've written here - even though both those things play into it. I can't help but get up in arms when I hear about this sort of thing, hear people trying to divvy up who is and isn't allowed to be a part of fandom, and is or isn't allowed to be fans of comics.

I mean, if you want someone to take aim at, why not have at me too? It took me 4+ years to self-publish my last 24 page comic. Feel free to tell me how I've no right to be here either. - The Management.]

[Additional. To go with Jennifer de Guzman's comment - her Twitter handle is @Jennifer_deG. - The Management.]

Between the election last week, and the prep for, and eventual marriage of, our lovely and brilliant host Sarah Crow, I didn't get a chance to post these, but they did still happen despite how absolutely swamped Sarah was.

That's professionalism, folks. Oh, and early warning because of the nature of these particular shows - Spoilers, sweeties.

First up is last week's The Walking Dead Recap show, looking at the episode "Killer Within," where Sarah and I discuss the most heart-wrenching entry of the season yet, and say goodbye to not one, but two [and possibly three!] of Rick's group, and see just how horrible even the best decisions Rick has tried to make go horribly wrong. But along with all the death, there's a birth too, one that has been long awaited. So join us as we talk about child-rearing during the Zombie Apocalypse, how AMC might want to consider a support group for their female leads, and how I might be the only Lori fan in the whole damn universe. Plus, I keep up my campaign to get Chris Hardwick on the show, though this past week, just so I could give him a hug.

And right before I hopped a plan to New York City to prepare for our hosts beautiful nuptials, we also managed to get in a recap/review for last week's American Horror Story: Asylum episode "I am Anne Frank" - part 1 of the first two parter this season. Introducing probably the only science/horror trope so far missing from the series, we get Nazis in Briarcliff now, along with the amazingly talented Franka Potente, by far one of my favorite actresses, for just... so many reasons.We also talk about Zachary Quinto's character finally going a little creepy on us, flail wildly as we try to figure out just what the hell is the single thread that ties aliens, Nazis, demons, and this insanity together, plus Sarah giggles like a school girl when I say "boners." All not to be missed.

So make sure you check out both archived shows on Sarah's channel, send her congratulations for being Mrs. Crow Biracree now, and as always, you can follow Sarah on Twitter @sarahgcrow, while I'm hanging out there @themojowire.

This conversation took place between 7:30 P.M. and 8:00 PM EST on Election Night. - The Management.

Cara: I keep thinking 'at least I'm in Mass' when elections happen. It's like a buffer zone.Randall: No buffing if this goes the wrong way though... Cara: Well as in 'maybe abortion will still be legal here? States rights?Randall: Possibly? But a constitutional amendment that marriage is between a
man and a woman?Cara: In Mass, married gays aren't even a big deal anymore.Randall: Imagine if Mittens wins and makes them all illegalCara: Then i give myself a hysterectomy.Randall: You might have to. Whose to say if Obamacare falls, all socialized medicine
won't eventually get the axe? We must win this. Elsewise, it all goes horrorshow.Cara: Nngh.Randall: Mitt Romney is the villain from a slasher flick. A clichéd, shambling monstrosity of misunderstood evil with a tragic back-story, and a family full of bastards willing to enable him. And no matter how far or fast we run, he always keeps pace. The only thing we can do now is turn and fight the motherfucker in a profanity-laced, virginity-empowered flurry of democracy.Cara: Virginity-empowered?Randall: Hey, I don't make the horror film rules. Though it could just be a metaphor for young people.Cara: I think most of the young voting-age people are fucking like rabbits.Randall: So are the Mormons, Cara. 25% of the vote for Romney has come FROM HIS OWN FAMILY.Cara: I just scared the cat by laughing.Randall: Look at it!

Randall: What the hell!Cara: What is this? I don't even...Randall: The Romney family.Cara: Why do they look like the Duggars?

Of course, if you think that'd stop Sarah and I from bringing you our usual brand of horror-recappin', you're out of your mind. This past week's episode of "American Horror Story: Asylum" was somewhat eerily entitled "Nor'easter," and saw the show really take off for the first time this season. Demons, aliens, classic cinema, and Zachary Quinto still looking kind of amazing in a way that makes me realize I'm way more comfortable with my sexuality than even I expected. It was a great show this week, with the standout being [in my opinion] Lily Rabe, playing a nun that has suddenly gone more than a little Iago on us.

So check out the archived show on Sarah's channel, and let us know what you think. And if you're a fan, you can join us tomorrow at 1:00 PM EST live for The Walking Dead Recap show.

Links

About the Management

Writer. Critic. Ordained Minister. What appears in this blog is some strange combination of a production diary for the writing I do, various fiction I want to share, and a chronicle of my mental health, which might need closer watching than I've let on. You're welcome to read along, if self- depreciating and masturbatory rants interest you. Or if I do. Maybe one day this will be a short book, or a long eulogy.

Contact

Want to get in touch with me personally? Need to comment on a post in private? Have something creative you want reviewed & promoted on the Wire? Or maybe you're an illustrator looking for a writer to collaborate with on a comic book? E-mail me at mojo.wire.productions@gmail.com or find me on Facebook.